


While The Stars That Oversprinkle

by Poemsingreenink



Series: Bind My Wings (Then Set Me Free) [2]
Category: Mulan (2020)
Genre: Bondage, Cunnilingus, Dubious Consent, F/F, Hostage Situations, Public Nudity, Rope Bondage, xena levels of historical accuracy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:33:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25777447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poemsingreenink/pseuds/Poemsingreenink
Summary: Mulan arrives at Xian Lang's home, and is introduced as her newly minted hostage.
Relationships: Fa Mulan/Xian Lang (Disney)
Series: Bind My Wings (Then Set Me Free) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1869976
Comments: 19
Kudos: 180





	While The Stars That Oversprinkle

**Author's Note:**

> I.
> 
> HEAR the sledges with the bells --  
> Silver bells !  
> What a world of merriment their melody foretells !  
> How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,  
> In the icy air of night !  
> While the stars that oversprinkle  
> All the heavens, seem to twinkle  
> With a crystalline delight ;  
> Keeping time, time, time,  
> In a sort of Runic rhyme,  
> To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells  
> From the bells, bells, bells, bells,  
> Bells, bells, bells --  
> From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.
> 
> The Bells by Edgar Allen Poe

“I didn’t agree to this.”

Mulan met Xian Lang’s eyes with fire and defiance glittering in the depths of her gaze. The strength of it was impressive, especially as she currently had one arm stretched over her breasts and the other covering as much of her cunt as possible.

It was early spring, but the wind still carried some of winter’s harsh bite. It traveled over the grasses tugging at the buds of the soon to open wildflowers and trailed icy fingers over Mulan’s naked skin. Her clothes had been ill suited for this weather, but Xian Lang supposed without them it was even worse.

Mulan's clothes were in a pile on the ground. The red tunic, white inner robe and pants all travel worn, torn and smelling of horse. They were easy enough to save. A good washing, and a bit of mending would have them good as new, but Xian Lang knew she would have them burned. She already regretted not killing Mulan’s strong black horse. She supposed there was still time. At the very least she’d need to have her change his name. The clothes she could at least do something about. 

Xian Lang approached her slowly, as though Mulan were a deer she might startle into the grass or a tiger curled and ready to attack. The coils of silk rope in Xian Lang’s hands were dyed a deep indigo, and decorated with tiny silver bells that jangled softly as she approached.

“Didn’t you?” Xian Lang asked.

Mulan’s eyes darted from Xiang Lang’s hands to the grouping of tents in the distance. In the half-moon’s light they were like clusters of sleeping giants, and Xian Lang felt a homesick pull to them and the people within. They were lucky to have arrived when they did. In a few weeks the clan would have moved out of the winter quarters and onto the summer pastures.

“I agreed to be ‘yours’,” Mulan snapped, her breath clouding. “To be viewed by your eyes. You said nothing about the eyes of others.”

“You are mine, but unless you plan on staying isolated in my tent, I’ll have to introduce you to the clan.” 

Several of Mulan’s actions had resulted in the deaths of those sleeping giant’s relatives. If Mulan was going to live among her people, without unpleasant incident, than there was a certain way that things had to be handled upon first meeting.

“I don’t need to be naked for introductions.”

“You’re being presented as a hostage. Not a guest,” Xian Lang said. “Hostages do as their told.”

A particularly strong gust of cold blew over the two of them, tugging at the sleeves and hem of Xian Lang’s robes. Her headdress was digging into her skull, and she wanted this part to be over so she could take it off. 

“The longer you argue with me,” Xian Lang said, uncoiling the rope. “The longer you are without warm clothes.”

Xian Lang took that moment to loop the rope around Mulan’s neck, tying the knot in the front where it would rest at the base of her throat. Mulan’s hands rose only to quickly drop and cover herself again.

Gently, Xiang Lang pulled Mulan’s hand away from her breasts, and then lifted the other away from her cunt.

“In other places of the world, these pretty places you’re hiding are not the only indications of womanhood, but here I will need them to be seen.”

She pulled the rope taught, and then bound it around Mulan’s wrists. Tugging on the rope from either participant would put the pressure on the wrists, not the throat, and it would keep Mulan from hiding.

The fire in Mulan’s eyes was gone now. Replaced by a soft, wet and frightened expression. Her lower lip quivered, but then went still.

“I can’t do this,” Mulan said. “I can’t.”

Xian Lang dropped the leftover rope, it would make an excellent leash, before uncoiling another length. This one she pulled between Mulan’s teeth before knotting it behind her head, and then wrapping it around her mouth again for security.

“'You can’t do this?’” Xian Lang scoffed. “It’s an insult to speak of yourself this way. You are braver than the entire continent.”

Carefully, she placed two fingers atop the girl’s eyelids, the thin skin delicate and chilled, and shut them before covering them with the last of the rope.

“Remember,” Xian Lang said, softly into her ear. “Bravery is always handsomely rewarded when you are with me. Be brave Hua Mulan, and this will be over soon.”

* * *

She’d never been naked in front of another person who wasn’t a blood relation. Even those months ago, preparing for the matchmaker, it had been her mother who’d washed her and her sister who’d helped her dress.

Xian Lang did not look at her like her mother or sister did. No woman had ever looked at Mulan the way Xian Lang did, and even with her eyes covered Mulan could feel the other woman’s intense gaze as it swept her from top-to-toe. Her taloned fingers brushed against her skin as the ropes were tested. As if they were itching to lay full palms against her, but knew they lacked the time. 

“Are any of the bells pressing into your eyes?” Xian Lang asked. “Does anything pinch? Anything hurt?”

Mulan shook her head, a fine tremor running through her. She was grateful for the cold. Xian Lang couldn’t know the effect she had on her. Not yet. Not so soon. She was already so quick to hand the other woman whatever she asked, and bend to whatever was demanded. It was dangerous to hand over so much power, but she couldn’t find a way to stop. 

“Good.”

There was a harsh tug at Mulan’s wrists, and she took several quick, unsteady steps forward. Then there were fingers holding her chin, and Xian Lang’s hot breath on her cheeks. 

“At the other end of this rope is my hand, my body, and my will. There will be no others. I will let no one take you from me, and no one else shall touch you. If you grow frightened remember that.”

Mulan nodded again, and the bells rang in agreement.

And then the heat was gone, and she was being roughly pulled forward.

“Mind the uneven ground,” Xian Lang said cheerfully.

The world was black behind the blindfold, and while nothing dug unpleasantly into Mulan’s eyes she could taste the silver of those bells on her tongue with the rope she’d been gagged with. Bits of metal pressed hard into her neck, but she was glad for them. She needed the discomfort, needed as many sensations as she could scrounge together now that sight was gone, and she was falling through this starless night.

Everything was somehow louder. Every blade of grass was a caress as it brushed against her leg. The cold pinched her nipples hard, and the smooth swish of her hair along her naked back was a familiar balm. Her clit and the lower folds of herself had never felt the tickle of the wind, and the chill of the elements. She wished Xian Lang had woven the rope between her fingers. Allowing her something to grasp onto as they walked through this dark. The only sound the soft tinkling of bells.

She smelled the animals before she heard them. Horses of course, then the _bah bah_ of a sheep, and the bleating of a goat. She wondered if her horse was with those animals? Xian Lang had allowed her to keep him along with her weapons, but she hadn’t said where they would be. How she would reach them again.

Eventually, the grass became shorter. Tramped down by many footfalls instead of long and waving against her calves.

She stopped only because she collided with Xian Lang and gave a muffled complaint. Xian Lang pulled at the rope, and the tension had Mulan moving closer. She stopped just as she could feel the brush of Xian Lang’s sleeves.

“Bori Khan!” Xian Lang shouted, and there must have been magic infused in that voice because it was suddenly everywhere. Filling Mulan up, and echoing across the grasses. “Bori Khan, come out of your tent. Your witch brings news!”

There was commotion then. A mishmash of voices and movement. Footsteps, and the flap of fabric as people appeared. The cries of children upset at being woken, and the grumbling of adults infuriated by this interruption of dreams.

Through this mad cacophony of noise came Bori Khan’s voice.

“Can’t you ever have something to tell me in the sunlit hours, Xian Lang?”

It was strange to hear this man sound sleep rumpled and irritated. Now that he wasn’t screaming at his troops across a battlefield, he sounded almost normal, but Mulan’s entire being still zeroed in on him. She’d held comrades as they bled out because of this man. Smelled the burning flesh from the remains of villages, heard cracking bones as horses fell to the ground, and seen lives taken from men who should have been home with their families. Her own father would have been dead because of this man if she hadn’t acted.

If he came too close, she would kick him. There would be punishment, but it would be worth it.

“The middle of the day is a poor time for a witch to deliver a message from the spirits,” Xian Lang said.

A murmur flowed through the people, and Mulan’s interest shifted. Xian Lang hadn’t said anything about spirits when she’d offered Mulan their deal. 

“Weeks ago,” Xian Lang said. “The spirits of my ancestors visited me in dreams with warnings of our people’s destruction. ‘Retreat now’ they warned. ‘Retreat to our home and become strong again. A better time will come for battle, and then victory will be ours. Revenge shall taste sweeter in Bori Kahn’s mouth if he allows this fruit to ripen.”

Mulan wanted her sight back. She wanted to see Bori Kahn’s face. How much did he listened to Xian Lang? Did his expression hold reverence or anger or humor? How powerful was Xian Lang to these people? If he disliked what she said what did that mean for her?

“We were strong!” called a male voice Mulan didn’t recognize, young and full of the stubborn stupidity only the very prideful could wield. “My father led strong people over the wall. We should have stayed! We would have been victorious!”

“If we were so strong, and the winds so favorable,” Xian Lang said, calm as a still pond. “How is it that three times we were defeated and pushed back? Are you suggesting that our leader was to blame for these defeats? Your own father?”

There was silence then. Or if there was an answer it was so soft it was drowned out by the bells that jangled in Mulan’s ears every time she so much as twitched.

“Our time over the wall will come,” Bori Kahn said, coolly. “Is that your news, Xian Lang? Did we arrive home only to turn right back around? And what’s this then?” His voice was suddenly so close that Mulan jumped. “A sacrifice?”

“Better,” Xian Lang, purred. “Do you remember the soldier on the mountain who brought the snows? The one on the grassy fields who walked beside our enemy’s captain and whispered in his ear? The ‘clever man’ you called him?”

“I do.”

“Well, here she is. May I present Hua Mulan.”

Mulan could smell his breath, the leather of his weapon’s belt, and the smoky smell of fire in his hair. She tensed, ready to strike, but then five pinpricks pressed into her hip. Xian Lang’s talons, with a promise of real pain if she didn’t behave.

“A woman!” Bori Kahn said. “Do our neighbors now allow women into their platoons?”

“No,” Xian Lang said. “She was hidden among their ranks. Disguised as a man. I was told in my dreams to find her, and to bring her among our people. She comes of her own free will, a hostage who will turn the tide in a future where we will cross the wall and rein victorious.”

One of the bells on Mulan’s cheek was flicked, and it took all she had not to throw herself forward. Sink her shoulder in Bori Kahn’s stomach and tackle him to the ground.

“Free will, Xian Lang?”

“It was a long ride to our winter camp. I leave nothing to chance.” 

And then Bori Kahn laughed. So loud and fierce that it could have knocked the stars into place. The rest of the clan joined in, slowly at first but then with a great roar that was so loud Mulan was swallowed up by the sound.

“Let it never be said that the spirits have no sense of humor!”

Mulan blushed, and lifted her chin. She fought the urge to toss her head like a horse. It would do nothing to dislodge the gag and allow to her tell this man exactly what she thought of him and his spirits.

“What will be done with her?” Bori Kahn asked, and he was close enough that Mulan was sure she could dislodge his kneecap with a kick if he held still.

“She will join me in my tent,” Xian Lang said. “She will be under my protection, and my watchful eye. There is much I have to teach her.”

* * *

One of the perks of being a clan’s all-knowing, all-powerful witch was the ear of Bori Kahn. One of the perks of being the clan women’s most trusted midwife was that her tent had been aired out and regularly cleaned while she’d been gone, and when she’d demanded a hot bath in the middle of the night it had been delivered.

There had been a certain amount of knowing looks exchanged of course, she was the only one who refused to bath in running water the way the rest of the clan did, but she was a witch and expected to be odd.

Several of the clan’s younger women streamed in and out of her tent. First dragging in a large wooden tub, and then with caldrons of boiled water. A yawning young wife who had Xian Lang to thank for the successful birth of her twin sons lit a cheerful fire, and Xian Lang led Mulan to its edge so she could warm up. Her shivering had been getting rather desperate, and so she pulled the younger woman against her and wrapped her in her long sleeves. She still smelled of horse, but that didn’t stop Xian Lang from laying a kiss on the younger woman’s temple.

The eldest of the small busy group produced a tray of food; strips of dried meat, goat cheese, tea and bread.

Xian Lang looked at the women in surprised. The bread was unexpected.

“My husband brought a sack of flour back from the war,” the woman said with a grin. She cast a long look at Mulan, and then smirked. “Hopefully you’ll have the strength to eat before you fall asleep.”

When the fire was hot and the tub full, the women gave their goodnights and left to catch whatever remaining sleep they could. Xian Lang mentally noted the face of each one as they left. She would need to visit their tents later. Babies would be on the way soon, and one of the new ones might finally show promise and provide her with an apprentice. 

In her arms, Mulan had finally stopped shivering. Xian Lang laid a hand on the other woman’s stomach, and gently drummed her fingers against the smooth skin. It felt good to be home, and even better to be home with a pretty new prize to play with.

“You’re very lovely like this,” she said, and gently rolled one of the small round bells with the pad of her finger. “Should I leave you bound up tonight? Unwrap you in the morning like a gift?”

Mulan whined unhappily and shook her head, creating a jumble of noise that replaced Xian Lang’s one delicate sound.

Xian Lang laughed.

“Alright, alright. Be still.”

The knots came away easily, and Xian Lang unwrapped the rope around Mulan’s wrists. There were small indents across the skin where some of the bells had dug in, but no cuts or lasting marks. They would be gone by morning.

Once the rope was removed, Xian Lang helped Mulan into the steaming waters, and settled her in the tub.

“I will join you in a moment,” Xian Lang said, carefully recoiling the pretty rope, and setting it aside.

Her headdress soon joined it, and she rolled her neck to work some of the tension away. Appearances were their own kind of magic, but Xian Lang often wished she could strike terror in the hearts of her enemies while wearing a lighter material. Her armor came next, the breastplate and shoulder protectors. Her leather belt with its collection of bones and claws. The leather pants clung to her skin as she rolled them off, and had she been alone she might have laid on the ground and wiggled her way out of them.

When all that was left were her robes she looked up, and saw Mulan had fixed her eyes on the water.

“You're allowed to look at me,” Xian Lang said.

The tub was large enough that the water covered Mulan’s breasts as she sat, but she’d also wrapped her arms around herself and was rubbing life back into her skin. She did not look at Xian Lang, but instead started flexing her long fingers.

“Mulan,” Xian Lang said. “Look at me.” 

“I’ve already seen you many times,” Mulan said.

Xian Lang tilted her head, and her hair swung freely across one shoulder.

“I was lenient outside only because I knew I was asking much from you. But I don’t want you to form bad habits. When I give you orders, you obey them. Now, you tell me. Was that an order?”

Mulan huffed, and the breath sent ripples across the water.

“I promised you reward,” Xian Lang said. “But it can easily be changed to punishment if that’s how you’d like to spend your first night in my tent.”

It was a fun idea. One that came with several superbly detailed images that flashed through Xian Lang’s mind. She was almost disappointed when the dark head rose, and the cautious brown eyes met hers.

“There. Very good.”

The inner robes with their long sleeves were all that was left of her clothing, and Xian Lang shrugged them off, letting them fall to the furs and rugs that coated the floor. Next time she undressed she would go slow, and force Mulan to assist her. There were clearly some lines she was going to need to shove the woman over.

Naked, Xian Lang stretched her arms high and went into her tiptoes. Rolling both shoulders, she smiled at the woman waiting for her in the tub. Mulan’s eyes were no longer holding hers. They were trying, but they continually tipped downward pausing on Xian Lang breasts and stomach, the shape of her hips, and the tuft of dark hair that led between her legs.

“You are always allowed to look at me when your eyes are left uncovered,” Xian Lang said as she came closer. 

A blush spread prettily across Mulan’s face. 

“You’re very-” she began, and then stopped.

Xian Lang slid into the tub.

“Very what?” Xian Lang asked.

There was a small wooden bowl floating in the water, and two clean cloths draped over the side. Xian Lang retrieved both and crooked her finger. This time Mulan came without complaint.

“Very beautiful? Very terrible? Very exciting?”

Xian Lang poured water over both their heads, and finger-combed the knots away. She scrubbed weeks’ worth of dirt and horse off them both, and completely removed the melting white paint from around her own eyes.

"I don't know," Mulan said softly. "I don't know what you are."

Xian Lang took careful notice of the scars and birthmarks that decorated Mulan’s skin. The long thin line down her side that spoke of sword practice. The puckered skin of a burn on one arm. The small cluster of brown freckles on her hip. Each new discovery a marvel.

She was so busy admiring her that she almost missed the tears, but a ripple in the still water caught her attention.

“Are you crying?” Xian Lang asked.

“No, it’s just the water sliding off my face,” Mulan said, her voice strained.

Xian Lang took her chin in her hands, and brought the girl’s face so close their noses brushed. She licked the wet cheek, and tasted salt. 

As she studied Mulan’s wide and weary eyes, Xian Lang considered her options. She should punish her for the lie. Lies were not going to be permitted, but another tear slid down Mulan's face and the girl looked so terrible lost that Xian Lang felt herself give in. She supposed it would be unfair to punish her when they hadn't officially gone over her rules yet.

“It’s been an exciting day,” Xian Lang said, softly.

Gently, she kissed the check she’d just licked, and moved to the other.

“An exciting day, after an exciting journey.” She licked the other cheek free of tears, and then kissed it as well. “After a terribly exhausting number of years. It’s been an exhausting year, hasn’t it?”

A real sob came out then, something wet and heartbreaking that Mulan was unable to swallow.

Xian Lang spread her legs so she could pull Mulan against her breasts, and held her in her arms.

“My brave Mulan,” Xian Lang said, pressing her lips against her temple.

Mulan sobbed again, and clung to Xian Lang.

“You've carried so much for so long, and all by yourself." She ran her hands down her arms, massaged her shoulders and wrists. Kissed the sharp edge of Mulan's collar bone, and then the soft shell of her ear. "Hidden your body from untrustworthy friends, and your thoughts from beloved relatives to protect the delicate world you adore."

“Don't worry," Xian Lang soothed. "That's over now. When you chose me, you chose freedom from such burdens. Your body cannot be hidden because it has already been exposed. You'll have no hidden shames because I will find all the desires you’ve packed away in your mind, and reveal them in the light. You will never fall from grace or honor because I will hold you fast in my arms. You'll give everything to me, and you will live deliciously. Until then, cry as much as you like.”

The tears reached their end just as the bath waters were beginning to cool. Mulan was soft and pliable in her arms, and when Xian Lang sat them up she brushed the last of the salty tears away from her face. Helping the other woman to stand, she practically carried her out of the water, dried her off, and then splayed her out across the furs.

Xian Lang kissed her once, deeply and with care before spreading her legs. 

“What are you doing?” Mulan asked, so exhausted that she didn't even bother to lift her head.

“Rewarding you. I promised I would.”

Xian Lang flattened her tongue and licked up her cunt. Mulan gave a sigh, and Xian Lang did it again, and then again.

“Feels good,” Mulan moaned.

Xian Lang mapped her way through the folds of Mulan’s cunt, leaving everything warm and wet in her wake, and this time when she reached the top paused to circle the hood of Mulan’s clit. That got more of a reaction. A pleased sigh, and a full body squirm.

After that it was a simple pattern. Drag her tongue up and stop with a circle of the clit. Drag her tongue up, and with the point of it zig-zag back down. She dipped her tongue between Mulan's labia as the woman grew wet, and breathed in the earthy smell that filled her nose.

Mulan pressed her head back, and dug her hands into the bright fur under her fingers as Xian Lang kissed along Mulan’s inner thighs, sucking a pattern of dark stars into the skin.

It wasn’t a loud thing when Mulan came, a tension in her body and then a moan that left Xian Lang grinning and wet herself. When she went soft under her hands Xian Lang knew she was done.

Xian Lang pulled away, and Mulan rolled to her side. She was asleep in moments, her breathing slow and her dark hair splayed across the white rabbit fur. She remained that way even when Xian Lang retrieved the food, and pulled the other woman’s head into her lap.

The tea had grown cold, but Xian Lang tipped it down her throat anyway before moving onto the meat and cheese; a meal she ripped to bits with ravenous delight. The bread she saved for last. It wasn't sweet or soft, few things were in the winters here, but there was a satisfaction in devouring it. Of knowing that it had been meant for a farmer, and then meant for a warrior and then meant for his wife, but somehow still ended up in her hands and on her tongue.

She brushed the crumbs off her body and ran gentle fingers through Mulan's drying hair as she waited for sleep. A future, ripe and red and waiting for her, was quickening behind her eyes. If she was careful, and she was patient. Yes. It would be a delicious future indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> -Thanks as always go to Lazaefair who read this over for me, came up with the name for this series as a whole, and is just a stand up human being. 
> 
> -She is also writing for this pairing! Go read her Mulan/Xian Lang fic Prize: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24048430


End file.
